Quadrille Me a Dawn

We are immersed.
Polar night
darkness unseamed.

Evil dawns as sun does not.
Erodes hope,
essence of democracy.

Revels in abysmal decrees
hurled again and again,
narcissistic plague.

Scepter spews clues
to personality disorder,
alternative reality.

We know however,
the midnight sun
shall rise.


Quadrille (poem consisting of exactly 44 words – not including title) posted for dVerse, virtual pub for poets. Today Björn asks us to use the word “dawn.” Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us! Photo from 2015 Alaska cruise. 

Resistance

Hear the guttural call
a loon in the midst of porous fog.
Tall ships tack ‘gainst angry waves
sails unfurled defying blowhard wind.
Sturdy spruce dig in, roots entangled,
stand valiantly in permafrost.

Voices merge, rise from depths,
like dawning sun they swell.
Their magnitude undeniable,
push their way
gain strength and energy,
overcome darkened skies

You cannot dim her torch
it shines her promise for the many.
Those who passed her by in awe
eyes raised, hearts knowing
hope lives and shall
forevermore.

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People . . .

Some exhale fresh air
with every breath.
Others spew pollution
from every pore.

Some sow smiles
like Johnny planted trees.
Others hurl thunderbolts
of anger and fear.

Some believe in we
live in the our.
Others tout two,
us versus them.

Some stand tall
no matter their stature.
Others think small
no matter their height.

Some people hope
as they pray for the others.
Willing the others
compassion for all.

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Shared with dVerse OLN today….the virtual pub for poets. Everyone is invited to share one poem of their choosing. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join the fun! Photo in public domain.

One Night

My eyes cannot see my face
and yet, in this room
this darkened place,

I see me in your love
your soft whisper breath
your fingertips across my skin.

You are my looking glass
image me into our dreams
light my heart, my soul,

light stars within my eyes
explode my senses,
nova me this night.

And then, as passions fade,
we shall sleep entwined
until the morrow’s dawn.

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I’m hosting Poetics at dVerse today – that wonderful virtual pub for poets. I’m asking folks to write a poem that includes a unique verbification – a noun or adjective used as a verb.  Think Google — originally a proper noun, the name of a company. People started to say “google that” and through repetition, it became a verb. How about “ganache me” — wouldn’t that be delectable?  My post, One Night, verbifies nova – a star that suddenly flares and then fades slowly. Come join us at dVerse to read and enjoy; and maybe, also, to post your own verbification! Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Photo: in public domain.

Each night . . .

slipping from here to there,
drifting toward sleep
my hand reaches for yours.

Fearful still,
I will not let you cross alone
this darkening nocturnal bridge.

Fingers interweave. I wait. I listen.
Soft even breaths become my evensong
and I succumb to dreams.

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Hosting the dVerse virtual pub for poets today. I’m asking folks to write a poem that contains the word “bridge.”  So many possibilities!  Come join us – bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.

What’s your history?

Adam and Eve’s tale
created a history.
Two genders. Two roles.
From prehistoric eras
came seminal works,
histrionic characters
assigned to mankind.
Hissy fits to machismo.
Words whimpered wrongly,
like hysterical mis-spelled.
Time now to accept
the herculean tough task.
Too often not heard
unless we are herd, enmasse.
Cherish who we are.
Do not say female or male,
women versus men.
We shall march a million strong,
support each other.
Our bodies, our minds, our love.
Together we can, we will.

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Gayle hosts dVerse today and asks us to write a CHOKA: an unrhymed poem with lines that alternate 5 and 7 syllables, ending with two 7 syllable lines. A new form for me…and quite a challenge to make the sense of the poem be the reader’s main focus rather than the framework of the 5-7-5-7-5-etc-7-7 syllable requirement. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
Two explanatory notes for the poem: 1) I’ve always been interested in semantics and the power of language; applauding the movement to more inclusive language as in “fire fighter” rather than “fireman” and “work hours” rather than “man hours.” Many changes like these have concretized in our language over the years and, I believe, affected perception. This poem looks at the place of gender specific words within words. Note the italics. There are many many more one could use. I find it an interesting exercise. 2) Jan 21, 2016 is the Women’s March on Washington with simultaneous similar events around the country. My daughter and I shall attend the one in Boston. Hence the reference at the end of the poem. I should add ,persons of both gender/sex are highly encouraged to attend these events!

Will you . . .

curl me softly?
Straight lines do not appeal,
nor pointillist detail.

Giverny blur me
in weeping willow,
mauve wisteria and lupine tendrils.

Soften words with lyrical strokes
lightly touch my lips,
whisper quietly in fading sun.

Hold me,
spoon me
in waning silvered moon.

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Welcome back to dVerse! Bjorn opens 2017 with the quadrille prompt to use the word “curl.”  dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, opens at 3 PM…come join us…curl up with a cup of coffee or a mimosa, share your take on the word and or read what others have to share in only 44 words (definition of a quadrille)!

Yuletide Carol, 2016

In the quiet spaces
my heart awaits a miracle.

A family with no home
carrying a gift within,
sought shelter on the darkest of nights.
Turned away,
their solace lay with stable mates
and a symbol of Love was born.

As the world seethes
a baby in Aleppo writhes with pain,
feels not the love promised to many.
Angels hover,
ethereal wings tattered and torn.
Their yuletide song has but six words.

How has it come to this?

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Created for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets.  dVerse will take a holiday hiatus, but I shall keep posting here.  Heads up! Tomorrow’s post is about our recent trip to Australia and includes some amazing photos of a mama wallaby and her joey!

Special thanks to Bjorn, Gail and all my fellow pub tenders. And a very special thanks to all dVerse participants for making 2016 a great year! 

she waits . . .

elusive time
slips through fingers
like threads of gossamer silk

elusive time
disappears like dew drops
as sun steeps blades of grass

elusive
as sheaves of journal pages
covered in faded ink,
tear drop stains
softened by the years

journal pages
fingered tentatively
as she sits, mind wandering,
wizened body ensconced
in pale grey prayer shawl

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I’m hosting the bar at dVerse today, a virtual pub for poets, and asking folks to write a poem with the word “time” in it; or a poem about a particular time etched in their memory. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time. Stop by and imbibe some poetic words or take up the prompt yourself. We’d love to have you! Photo credit: Kristen Hultzapple.